


Into The Black

by Honeythief



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeythief/pseuds/Honeythief
Summary: The devil's touch felt divine. The hands that have spilled so much blood felt gentle and soft. The one who waited only to sink his teeth into the perfect prey was the only one who made him feel safe.





	Into The Black

**Author's Note:**

> Just my take on a typical Kuroshitsuji fanfic that turned out longer than intended ;)  
> Enjoy!

The best part of Lizzie's visits was seeing her off. When after a long, tiresome day of keeping up with her antics the promise of peace and quiet finally emerged on the horizon. When he could withstand the last smother of her tight clutch around his neck to wave that long-awaited goodbye. He no longer had fun; spending time with her served only to remind him of painful past and inevitable future. Making more memories meant nothing but more hurt to come.

It wasn't that she missed; it wasn't on purpose, either. She'd been properly aiming for his left cheek, having finished chattering excited nothings in her lilted, high-pitched voice. It was Ciel who turned his head the wrong way at the wrong moment, thinking he was about to be let go. The touch of their lips lasted two, short seconds before he was pushed all the way back to bump into Sebastian's rigid chest with a shrill, flustered squeak of maidenly bashfulness. The butler supported him like a stone pillar – solid, unmoving, always there to stop his fall.

Elizabeth flushed a fiery red, bunched both fists into her frilly, orange skirt, and blabbering indiscernible goodbyes ran out the front door before Paula could so much as fetch her overcoat, before the little Earl Phantomhive could so much as react. All he could do was watch his fiancée's blonde ponytails bounce behind her as she tumbled down the stairs with a frantic clicking of low heels. He could stand motionless in the grand hallway where she left him, listening to the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels rolling away through the gravel. He has just been kissed.

When kissed by a pretty young lady, shouldn't a young boy react in certain natural ways? Beyond all doubt he should, and yet Ciel's cheeks did not color, nor did his heart flutter even the slightest of bits. No butterflies in his stomach, no burning embarrassment to match Lizzie's own. He felt indifferent. He felt nothing beyond a twinge of awkwardness and mild irritation at his servants' smug chuckles behind his back, not a thing.

“It's okay to move now, young master,” said Sebastian with a hint of amusement, his gloved hands still settled upon Ciel's shoulders. Mey Rin stifled another excited giggle. Tanaka's little “ho ho ho” echoed somewhere in the background.

Ciel twisted his neck and looked all the way up. His big, blue eye cut sharply toward the smirking butler above. “How about _you_ move and draw me a bath?”

And in the bath, he thought about it. He thought about it as Sebastian splashed warm water over his back, as he dried him with a towel and tied the bathrobe around his slim waist. He thought about it with his head buried under covers, in the carriage to London and through his afternoon meeting with Funtom factory manager. He thought about it as three days later he sipped his Ceylon over a monthly report of company sales and could not for the world force himself to care about the one percent by which they dropped. Of all the problems he could focus on and worry about, how ludicrous to have his mind occupied with similar trifles! Really. A certain demon would no doubt be disappointed in the shallowness of his latent thoughts.

The earl sighed, propped his chin on one hand and through the long tresses of his lashes he watched Sebastian clean the porcelain crockery from his desk. Today's dessert was a sinfully delicious chocolate soufflé that made him want to lick the plate clean; how perfectly ironic for the taste of Sebastian's sweets to be as close as he would ever get to heaven.

Maybe it had simply been too sudden, too short – he pondered still, not taking his eyes off the demonic butler and his inherently graceful movements. Why did people want to kiss other people in the first place? Why was Mey Rin or Grell flat-out obsessed with kissing Sebastian, for instance? The act of it occurred to Ciel at first disgusting, then indifferent.

Indifferent. Again.

He frowned. Was he an emotionless husk? Was hatred the only thing he could still feel and revenge the only thing left for him to care about?

“Sebastian,” he called out absent-mindedly, motioning the butler closer with an idle gesture that was at once obeyed. He walked behind the desk and froze there in wordless expectancy of instruction.

“Lean in.”

Assuming his master has – for reasons yet unknown – felt the need to whisper in a perfectly empty room, Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at the command and bent over just inches from where the boy sat in his cushioned armchair. Ciel's lips, however, did not move to mutter orders into his ear; plush and chocolate-flavored, they pressed against his own in a long, chaste kiss. He made it last five full ticks of the study's antique clock before pulling away with an expression entirely unreadable to stare into Sebastian's ruby, comically wide eyes. A warm breeze blew through the half-cranked window and softly rustled the curtains.

“Ah. I see. Interesting,” Ciel matter-of-factly stated, in a tone so thoroughly soaked with boredom it hardly seemed suitable to utter the word “interesting”, a tone more fit for someone flipping through yesterday's newspaper or feigning polite interest in some noble's tedious story at a fund-raising ball. He took a sip of tea and turned to once more examine the report.

There were instances the demon could read his master like an open book, see right through the emotions he painstakingly tried to keep concealed behind a façade of cold composure. This was not one of those instances. Then, there was the other, quite directly opposite kind of instance – a savory moment when his master exceeded the expectations of someone who has lived for centuries untold and believed that humanity had nothing left in store to surprise him. He relished those instances, the distinct thrill of excitement at a shift he hadn't seen coming, he reveled in their games and the twists and turns of his little master's ingenious mind. But this wasn't one of those instances, either. In this instance, Sebastian felt most simply dumbfounded.

With a blink he stiffly straightened himself and collected his features back into the fake, polite smile he usually kept plastered to his face. “Young master, may I ask—”

“You may not,” Ciel cut off in a flat, impatient voice and waved him away like a pesky fly. “I'm busy. You're dismissed for now. Go play with your cat, or something.”

It wasn't until the study door closed for good behind Sebastian's tailcoat that the young earl's façade deflated like air from a pierced balloon. One hand he squeezed around a bundle of bluish locks, the other he palmed against his rapidly heating face. Concealing things from the demon has never been Ciel's strongest suit, yet this time he amazingly managed to withhold the hot blush that now burned his cheeks like a fever. Damn it! What manner of dirty tricks were at work? What wicked, alluring sorcery? The only explanation was for him, Ciel Phantomhive, to have been put under some demonic spell!

He groaned in shame and cursed the twisted train of thought that had led him into trying out this ridiculous experimentation. How could this have ever seemed to him a good idea? He has just kissed a man. A grown man. No, a demon. A butler. _Sebastian._

And it had felt nice. When the realization dawned upon him fully and undeniably, not a trace remained of his indifference. It triggered something deep within that should've stayed buried.

“Tch. Disgusting,” he spat and wiped his lips with a handkerchief.

But he thought of it. When not so long ago he worried about not feeling anything at all, now he worried about feeling the wrong kind of things for the wrong kind of person. He would've gladly reverted to the blissfully neutral state of emotional indifference, were it only possible. Instead, he thought of it without cease or respite. It lingered in the back of his mind; a half-formed awareness, an itch he dared not scratch. He thought of it whenever Sebastian carried him out of harm's way, keenly aware of the closeness of their lips and the exact places the demon's hands were pressed against his body. When every single day those hands dressed and bathed him, he thought of it. When he saw him torn by injuries and soaked with blood he'd spilled for his sake, he could barely hold it in. Though his mind cringed with inward disgust and though he mightily willed it all away, everything inside him boiled with sensations he did not yet understand. He thought of the demon's low, velvety voice. Elegant, graceful frame. Nimble fingers. Deep, piercing eyes and sinful lips. All those things he not only thought of, but came to appreciate in the most scandalously inappropriate of ways. From his thoughts it seeped into his dreams, pervaded his consciousness and subconsciousness alike – images that blurred before his eyes but had him waking in the middle of the night breathing heavily and with flushed, prickling skin.

The more he thought of it, the worse it got. Every passing day and month, it was maddening. What did he ever have against indifference?

He now desperately tried to recall that hollowness into being – now especially, as Sebastian kneeled before his bed and slowly fastened the buttons of his nightshirt. He tried to bear through it with gritted teeth and gaze pinned to a random spot on the left side of his room, urging his mind not to wander places he wished it had never gone. He sat there numbly on the edge of his bed, waiting for it to be over so that he could at last breathe freely again and relax the muscles he kept so tense. But as he waited and the demon was still not rising to his feet to tuck him in and blow out the candelabra, the earl furrowed his brows and angrily demanded: “Why aren't you buttoning it up?”

As the butler smiled in answer, in his eyes flashed a well-known glint of mischief. _“Absolutely disgusting,”_ Ciel thought, and his stomach turned.

“Ah. I was wondering when you'd notice. It took you half a minute, young master. Spacing out, aren't we?”

Ciel glowered silently. Why couldn't he just button the damn shirt?

“My, my. So it is that age already, after all. Human cravings are so very troublesome. So is changing damp sheets, I might add. Pity. I preferred my young master all innocent and unsullied.”

The harsh slap landed perfectly on Sebastian's pale, smooth cheek. To a demon, it must have felt like the bite of a mosquito, but to Ciel that bite felt nonetheless satisfying. His hand stung and his mind raced. What nonsense. His soul, innocent? After witnessing hell and binding himself to it? His body, unsullied? After all the violent touches of dirty, coarse hands? And... cravings? He drew breath to blare out a thundering “how dare you?!”, but by time he opened his mouth, the butler had already bowed his head in humility.

“I deeply apologize for my insolence, young master; I just couldn't help myself. I find it amusing how little control humans hold over their own desires. More so amusing, how they fool themselves into thinking they can hide it.”

“Ha! You're the one to talk,” Ciel scoffed mockingly, gazing down upon his butler with a wicked smirk. “You, a demon that would change a human's soiled sheets, answer to his every whim and humiliate himself just to eat one, little soul! How pitiful a desire, fighting for a scrap of food like a starved dog!”

The demon's eyes narrowed alarmingly. Ciel allowed himself one, last sneer.

“Is that why you like cats so much? You admire their independence from weak, pathetic humans?”

Sebastian wasn't easy to provoke, but it was very easy to tell when he had, in fact, been provoked. His eyes flashed that inhuman shade of crimson and his sharp teeth bared in a dreadful grin. He slammed both hands on either side of Ciel's hips and loomed dangerously close to his face. The earl swallowed around the lump in his throat and took on the evil glare without shying away. Like he'd ever get scared of Sebastian! The contract kept him on too tight a leash. If his knees trembled and his heart hammered in a wild rhythm, it certainly wasn't because of fear.

“You underestimate my patience, little master,” spoke the demon, and his hushed voice was layered with something that made shivers dance all across the boy's skin, something dark. “And you underestimate the restraint I exercise over my hunger. I do not scour for scraps, I hunt the tastiest bits and season them to ripe perfection. My mouth waters every single day and every single day I swallow and bear it. Didn't you know, young master?” he murmured as he wrapped his hands around Ciel's small, crossed knees and splayed them apart. The gloves were gone. ”It's the anticipation that makes everything worth it. It's the wait that fuels desire and incites hunger. How can you savor something if you haven't taken the time to truly lust after it? Is a game fun if you win right away? That moment when you finally sink your teeth into the meal you've been craving for so very long...” his smirking lips grazed Ciel's earlobe. The hands on his knees slid further up the delicate skin of his legs. “...is the sweetest reward for all the hassles one has to endure.”

Ciel's cheeks were perfectly scarlet. He could not move a single muscle, bewitched by the demon's low, tempting slur, helplessly trapped under his towering body. He shivered and gasped when the wet, soft texture of Sebastian's tongue ran up the side of his neck. Filthy, disgusting—

The demon chuckled, pulling back to peer into his eyes. “Do you understand, young master? Or have you not waited long enough?”

The question hung unanswered. Ciel wanted to retort, mock, protest – anything at all – only to find himself incapable of speech. With his half-lidded, mismatched eyes he watched as the distance between their lips kept shrinking, diminishing, until it finally ceased to exist. His mind was barely lucid, long lashes fluttering over rosy cheeks, hands tightening involuntarily on the lapel of Sebastian's coat. The demon's tongue slid easily past his lips and he moaned – surprised, incited. It felt good, perhaps even as good as warm chocolate soufflé slowly melting away in his mouth. He yielded under the sensation, but did not reciprocate. Some part of him still wanted to resist, flickering faintly like weak candlelight soon to be smothered by the slightest breeze.

Sebastian hummed and pulled away, brushing a finger over his master's throat, feeling him swallow. Ah, humans. What lustful state could one kiss induce! “Interesting indeed,” he mused, long fingers stroking under Ciel's chin. “I value the taste of innocence, but I do wonder if perhaps your losing it with a demon might not add a certain spice to that delectable soul.”

The young earl snapped back to reality. He thrashed, pushed, and struggled to close his legs. All to no avail. “L-Losing it? What are you on about? I lost it when—”

“No,” Sebastian pulled his master back towards him by the collar of his half-buttoned shirt. “You still have much to give me. Innocence is lost only when you willingly surrender yourself to sin. When you embrace damnation, only then.”

“Let me go, you mad devil!”

“I'm afraid you're going to have to use the magic words to make me stop,” said Sebastian and pushed lightly at the boy's chest.

 _“Ah, that's right,”_ Ciel thought as his back hit the sheets with a soft thump. _“But then he would have to obey. What a boring game would that make.”_

For awhile he stared at the canopy of his bed. He's never been drunk, but this had to be what it felt like. Slipping control and hazy thoughts. Urge to fight against the numbness clouding one's mind, ever-spreading.

“A wise man once said that a butler's top priority should always be his master's well-being. I promise this will make you feel better, my lord,” Sebastian proclaimed and lifted his spread legs, face emotionless and movements methodical as though he were simply carrying out another task. The only thing that made his expression different from pouring tea was the lingering hue of blazing crimson about his shadowed irises. He even took care to touch his master's bedding as little as possible, as though it were somehow more inappropriate than the fact he was currently fondling his legs. He kissed and licked over his slim calf, under his bent knee, up the inside of his trembling thigh. Hands soft like satin trailed across him in worshipful caress, black fingernails stark against creamy skin. It was when his lips reached all the way below his hipbone that Ciel stopped looking. With one arm slung over his tightly clenched eyes he felt the hem of his loose nightshirt ride up to his belly and expose heated flesh. He couldn't make himself look; shame burned through his veins along with arousal. His toes curled and his fingers threaded through sleek strands of raven hair, moans pushed breathlessly past his lips. He felt everything, even if he could not see. Tickling tongue. Moist fingers. Ghosting breath. Tingling of flushed skin and the rushing of blood. Mind-boggling bliss, so much of it. A sensation entirely unfamiliar, addictive from the very first instance, and yet... at the same time, inconceivable. An act he considered so obscene now made him shiver in something other than disgust, wasn't anything like _then_.

That quivering spark of resistance faded away as soon as he realized the horror that occasionally assaulted him at another's touch was not going to stir from the depths of his claimed soul. No breaks of cold sweat, no gory flashbacks from the darkest month of his life resurfaced to haunt him anew. He thought they might, suspected they would, triggered by the same manner of touch that has left him so scarred. But of course they didn't – the one doing this to him was, after all, Sebastian. The one who slayed his defilers and rescued him from the cage. How frightening he'd been that day, how perfect! He did everything perfectly, and tonight was no exception. The devil's touch felt divine. The hands that have spilled so much blood felt gentle and soft. The one who waited only to sink his teeth into the perfect prey was the only one who made him feel safe. What laugh-worthy irony; Sebastian was full of contrasts, just like his master.

Ciel whined and bucked his hips, breathing erratically. It crashed into him like a wave and like a wave it slowly rolled away, leaving him bathed in the throes of a rich afterglow. When he could no longer feel the demon's touch on his sensitive skin and the nightshirt was safely back over his hips, Ciel cranked an eye open to see Sebastian still hovering above, smiling as he licked over his lips – slow and lewd, as though he's just had the most delicious treat.

Ciel blushed furiously. He pulled himself up on his elbows and nearly bumped his forehead against Sebastian's. He gave every remaining shred of strong will to muster a cold, overbearing tone fit for an earl: “What, you're done? I thought you were supposed to make me feel better. You call that pleasing your master? Get on with it already. Or are you all bark and no bite?”

Sebastian held off a chuckle. How naïve of his young master to ask for something he thought could only hurt and sicken, never please. How ironic for him to call someone just full of talk after lying there motionless and ashamed, unable to so much as peek through his fingers. As expected of Earl Phantomhive – stubborn and prideful even when sprawled so pliant across the sheets. So much grit in such a small body.

“As you wish, my lord,” the demon bowed his head in servitude. At once he reached to snap open what few buttons of his master's shirt he'd fastened earlier, but was stopped by a pair of small hands wrapping around his wrists. “You're dressed, so I'll stay dressed, too,” he heard. Really, even though there was not an inch of his naked body that Sebastian had yet to see, even though so little of it was covered by the fabric of his disheveled robe, anyway. Ciel turned his head to the side and stared at the same spot he'd been staring at earlier, biting on his lower lip, blatantly trying to ignore the hand under his shirt or the hand busy undoing the trousers of a pitch-black uniform.

The demon sighed. So demanding yet so indecisive. So cocky yet so sheepish. “You're cheating, young master.”

“Shut up, be quiet. I don't remember discussing any rules.”

Sebastian grabbed hold of slender hips and yanked closer, draping himself all over the shivering body beneath. The last chance to yell “stop” has passed. Slowly inching inside he leaned to distract the boy with a kiss, but was met with another protest.

“Wait, don't— not after you— with that _dirty_ mouth—”

This time, Sebastian did chuckle. What little effect his plea had, when whimpered so pitifully with pink cheeks, ruffled hair, half-open lips and glazed eyes! Innocent, vulnerable, trusting... and what restraint it took to suppress that flare of hunger!

“Is it yourself you're calling dirty, young master? I'm certain you were properly bathed this evening...” the demon wondered out loud, leaning to sniff at Ciel's neck. “Ah, yes. Honey... lavender... hints of bergamot,” he purred in-between teasing kisses over his neck, jaw and collar. He didn't stop the rocking of his hips nor the stream of soothing mutters that seemed to both calm and rouse him so, feeling his body grow mellow under the touch, slowly win over pain. He made sure to unmake all resistance before finally claiming his lips again – rougher this time, dirtier, as though he wanted to devour him whole and because he did, more than anything else. He felt little fingers fumbling clumsily with the collar of his coat, but made no move to help – for a butler to appear undressed before his master would be, after all, considered highly unbecoming. In the end, the most Ciel managed to undo was his tie and the top four buttons of his shirt. It was enough; he just needed something to hold onto as he slowly fell apart. He tossed the tie blindly away and buried himself in the crook of Sebastian's neck, muffling there the quiet sounds he embarrassingly couldn't keep from spilling past his lips. For a time, it was all he heard; his own rasped breath and the rhythmic rustle of sheets. Until, just next to his ear, came a grunt too deep to be his own. Ciel tore himself from the warm refuge of Sebastian's bare skin and studied him confusedly. The demon's face was no longer that of blank professionalism; it bore no semblance of his usual smile, either. His brows were pressed together, mouth pursed, hair falling messily all over his face. Through the thin slits of his eyes peeked a pair of blown pupils and irises a few shades of red brighter than before.

Ciel only gaped, at first. An unknown feeling coiled inside his stomach. Seeing Sebastian in such a state was... highly peculiar. He gaped, gawked, and then he burst out laughing hysterically. The demon froze in place, taken aback.

“W-what was it you said about human desires again, S-Sebastian? With that d-dirty little smirk of yours, haha! A-amusing, were they not? For a thirteen-year-old boy to succumb to it is understandable, b-but _you_? An ancient, powerful being! The d-damn devil! Hahaha, look at you!” he nearly choked with laughter, shaking uncontrollably. “D-disgusting!”

The corner of Sebastian's mouth twitched in annoyance. That brat really had to get the last say in everything, didn't he? One of a kind. “Running your mouth like that doesn't suit you, my lord, when just a while ago you were mewling like a kitten...”

Ciel giggled a few more times, and as his laughter steadily died down, he reached to gently – almost lovingly – cup Sebastian's cheek. He gazed at him through his tousled fringe, into the ocean of scarlet that was his eyes, without shame or fear or doubt. Black, silky locks fell forward in a cascade to sweep lightly over the back of Ciel's hand like the most luxurious fabric. He didn't know why he gazed so at the demon or why he would've been content to just stay like this until he fell asleep, but when Sebastian took him again, it was nowhere near as tender as before. He had to wrap both hands around Ciel's waist to keep his fragile body from sliding up the sheets with every shove; and when he kissed him, it was wild and painful, even, for his sharp fang caught on Ciel's tongue and drew warm blood. The demon drank it up thirstily as it flooded his mouth, snarling like the beast Ciel often forgot he was. His lips left red, smeared marks wherever they touched, his fingers pressed too hard around his waist, and Ciel felt entirely powerless against it. How very wrong he'd been; the closest thing to heaven wasn't, after all, the taste of Sebastian's sweets. It was his hands and tongue all over hot skin, it was his hair brushing softly against his clavicle, it was his voice purring in his ear and the surges of bliss he sent through his body. He was caught in the spell, and if someone – drawn by high cries of pleasure in the dead of night – were to now open the door, their eyes would witness a scene most perverted and scandalous. A crime against morality, a fatal blow to Earl Phantomhive's noble reputation. Such a sinful thing, and yet he writhed on the mattress begging the demon for more.

Why should that be wrong? Ciel had been asking himself that question every day and every single day the reasons came out endless. Irrefutable. Obvious. Now, his mind was blank. _Why_ should it? He really didn't know anymore. What difference did it make, in the end? Why should he care about morality, why should he give a damn about being right or good? The one who swooped down to answer his call was not an angel with pure white wings, but a demon with blood-colored eyes and sharp claws. Darkness, not light. Darkness could give him revenge, obedience, pleasure. Darkness was right there at his every command, palpable on the tip of his fingers – he needed but to reach out. When all his pawns have fallen and piled at his feet, only darkness will have remained by his side – both in the life it gave him and in the death it will deliver. Darkness was his only ally, and he embraced it; willingly, eagerly, he let it cover him like a blanket and fill his entire being from the inside and out. It deserved to have him any way it wanted.

And so in the arms of his darkness, Ciel trembled. Over and over, he called its name like he called it in the cellar of Baron Kelvin's mansion, like he sometimes called it through his sleep and didn't even know, like it was the only name that belonged on his lips. _Sebastian._ Darkness held his hand as he came undone, wiped the lone, unwitting tear that fell from the beautifully violet eye he kept hidden from world, proof of his damnation. He stayed with him until his breath calmed, brushed the sweaty bangs from his eyes and lay one final kiss on his temple.

And then he was gone. The comforting weight of his body, the warmth, the safety. One second Sebastian was all he could feel, now he left but a ghost of his touch. Sweet and blissful, then cold and lonely. Was it going to feel like that in the end, too?

The butler stood upright by his bed, adjusting crinkled clothes as he assessed the earl's state from head to toe. “Ah, no good. I made quite the dirty mess of you, young master. My apologies. Will you please bear with it a moment while I fetch a washcloth?” he asked, even though they both knew that by the time he returned, Ciel will long since have fallen asleep.

“Hey. Sebastian?” he halted the butler on his way out, voice weak and sleepy.

“Young master?”

“Thank you for making me feel before you take everything away.”

Sebastian's whole body went stiff. He stood frozen at the doorway for a long, silent while. When he finally spoke, he did so in a quiet, somber voice.

“How could I call myself the butler of Phantomhive family if I couldn't manage this much?”


End file.
